


incessant dreaming

by jolie_unfiltrd



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And I can't say that I'm surprised, And turned into feelings, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Bisexual Pansy Parkinson, But mostly Harry/Hermione, Canon Divergence - Post-Hogwarts, F/F, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Multi, Orgy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sexualities Are Pretty Fluid All Around, Some depiction of background pairings (which are very loose indeed), This started out as an orgy, Unspeakable Hermione Granger, Unspeakable Pansy Parkinson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:40:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28248522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolie_unfiltrd/pseuds/jolie_unfiltrd
Summary: Pansy raised a querying eyebrow at her petite friend. "You're telling me that all of that-" Pansy gestured vaguely to Harry's everything - his broad shoulders, narrow waist, the musculature that Hermione had deemed sculpted in other contexts and now seemed positively unfair - "does nothing for you?""I - I didn't say that," Hermione muttered mulishly.---Hermione goes to a sex party with her friends, not knowing that Harry, her very platonic, very nice best friend and housemate is also invited.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Pansy Parkinson, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 98





	incessant dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> This is smutty smut, with a dash of humor and Unspeakable life and a generous handful of unrequited (but actually definitely requited) feelings. 
> 
> I talk a lot to real life friends about how fanfiction isn't always smut, that it can be a beautiful place to explore the what-ifs - but sometimes it's a beautiful place to explore the smutty what-ifs too, and I'm not at all sorry about it. 
> 
> This was a case of: "what if Hermione and Harry were both invited to an orgy and kinda accidentally tripped into just being with each other the entire time?"

“Oh,” Hermione murmured as she entered the luxurious bedroom for the first time, lit by floating candles and were those stars on the ceiling? She took a shaky breath and allowed her gaze to drop and _oh_ , she was surrounded by moans and whimpers and more of her friends’ naked bodies than she’d ever imagined.

Well, mostly naked, in some cases.

(And she _had_ imagined them, near constantly since Pansy had accosted her with her third invitation the week before).

“Granger,” Pansy purred as she rocked her hips on Neville’s tongue, perky tits clad entirely in a transparent white lace with delicate black dots that should have been simply lovely but instead was mesmerizingly sexy. “You made it.” Neville’s hands tightened on her thighs and the last word came out in an indecent moan.

“Yes, well,” she replied, unable to keep her insatiable gaze on one person for long. There was Luna, entirely naked save the silk blindfold shoved up onto her forehead, legs spread wide around Neville’s hips as she teased him mercilessly, dragging her wet folds up and down the side of his cock, even as Pansy pinched her lovely nipples.

Then, behind them, on the chaise lounge, Draco Malfoy was on his knees for Theo Nott, the former’s hands bound behind his back as he hollowed out his cheeks and allowed Theo to fuck his mouth with abandon. Theo stroked his lover’s face fondly, but the gleam in his eyes was animalistic.

Daphne Greengrass was spread across the bed just beyond them, hands grappling at the coverlet as Ginny Weasley eased what appeared to be yet another finger into her heat, licking up the delicate skin between Daphne’s silk clad breasts. Even as she finger-fucked the other girl at an increasingly demanding pace, Blaise Zabini maintained his shallow thrusts into her, hands roaming from her hips to her buxom breasts up to her throat.

“You know me. Curious at all costs.”

When Pansy had approached her at work a month ago about joining a sex party with her friends, she had laughed so hard she’d cried over their soup and sandwiches in the break room of the Department of Mysteries.

When Pansy had asked her again, a few weeks later, arguing that it had been ages since she’d let her hair down and it was just casual fun, a weekend romp to burn some energy and get their rocks off, Hermione had been baffled that she... didn’t really have a good response to that.

Ron had told them that the wizarding world was much more casual about sex, but it was still difficult for her to wrap her head around. Particularly difficult as Molly Weasley had been the first to shame her for her supposed scarlet woman status in school- though apparently she was the exception and not the rule. Even learning that Fred and George were both happily dating (and sleeping with, sometimes simultaneously) Angelina hadn’t done much to lower her eyebrows.

Harry had reacted much the same, at least at first, and it had been a comfort, to know that they stood on some solid ground together, in yet another thing. They’d been closer than ever since Ron and Susan got married just a few years after the war’s end, and after she’d fallen asleep on the couch at Grimmauld Place more times than her own flat in a month, he’d insisted she just move in. Crookshanks loved him, and so she really hadn't protested. 

It was really nice, she’d told Pansy once as they worked on a particularly nasty bit of time magic, to have a platonic best friend. No expectations, no flirting.

It was easy. Really nice, she'd insisted again, and Pansy had primly informed her that if she said the word _nice_ one more time, she was going to dump an entire vial of WWW's Itching Powder into her tea.

(And he was _safe_ , whispered the traitorous voice in her head. No chance she’d get invested and then get her heart broken again. Ron, a rather short-lived affair with Marcus Flint, and even six-months with McLaggen... it was all enough for her to wish for a break from dating).

Pansy had snorted the second the word “platonic” exited her mouth, but simply pointed out that she didn’t have to be married to have sex, not here, not as a witch, and why didn’t she come over the next weekend and try it out?

Hermione had shrugged it off once more. 

But her Unspeakable partner was nothing if not persistent, and she seemed determined for Hermione to at least realize she was serious, that it was a legitimate offer, and that she thought it could be fun for the witch who had become one of her closest friends.

"It seems..." Hermione had posited, hands deep in the tank of brains as her co-worker took copious notes, "it's a bit like jumping off the deep end, isn't it? To go from sex with one partner in an established relationship to a weekend of, er, sex with potentially multiple people."

"You don't have to do anything but watch," Pansy had said, whipping her dark hair over her shoulder with a nonchalant smile. "You can be with one of us, all of us, or none of us, it's really up to you."

Hermione had extracted another brain and deposited it, unceremoniously, into a waiting jar.

"Fine," she had agreed, clamping the lid on with unnecessary force.

(Of course, that had been before she'd known that Harry had agreed to come that evening too).

Hermione stood, frozen in the doorway as her eyes darted from person to person - admiring the tight grip of Theo's long fingers on Draco's hair, the gentle slope of Blaise's back as he thrust leisurely into the redhead in front of him, Luna's unabashed delight at the motion of Neville's hips. It was... a lot to take in, particularly for someone who had been relegated to fairly vanilla sex.

She'd thought that her adventures with McLaggen had prepared her, but in no way had she expected _any_ of this.

She swallowed hard and pulled the robe tighter around her waist, intent on leaving as soon as she could get away with it. But Pansy must have been monitoring her posture out of the corner of her eye because she scooted her hips backwards, gave Neville a languorous kiss full on the mouth, wiped her juices from her lips and strode over to the doorway.

"Granger, don't tell me you're going to back out now?"

"I - I just remembered I left something on the stove."

"No, you didn't," came a quizzical, rather familiar voice from behind her. _Harry_. "I just cleaned up the kitchen a bit before I headed over here." With an easy grin, he stepped into the room and stripped off his shirt and pants, looking around at the participants, debating where to go first.

Hermione's eyes tracked him almost unwillingly, almost as if she couldn't help herself.

(Of course she could, she chided herself. That was her _platonic_ _best_ _friend_ and she was absolutely fine with his presence but not persuaded to stay or go just by the mere fact that Harry was here. Not at all).

Pansy looked between the two of them with a devilish smirk. "You didn't tell him you were coming?"

"I didn't know he was also invited," Hermione hissed, still preparing to retreat, robe wrapped tight enough around her waist she wasn’t entirely sure she was still breathing.

The dark-haired witch just shrugged and wrapped her arm around Hermione, pulling her into the room. "He's joined in the festivities once or twice, I wasn't sure if he'd come again. And," she looked at her friend with a secretive smile, "I didn't know that's something you would be into."

"I'm not," Hermione denied vehemently. "We are just friends."

"Alright, alright," Pansy soothed. "You'll stay for a bit, then, won't you?"

"I suppose," she replied, steadfastly keeping her eyes away from Harry, who had crawled onto the bed next to Daphne, playing with her tits with his left hand as he lounged in his boxer-briefs, a relaxed smile on his face.

"Can I kiss you then, Granger?"

"Mmm, sure," she said, distractedly, as Harry leaned down to kiss the blond with a slow, devoted effort.

Pansy stepped in front of her, blocking her line of sight, and snuck her hands around the shorter girl's waist, tugging her in close before capturing her lips in a heated kiss.

On a professional level, she had always appreciated Pansy's boldness, her willingness to take charge, her leadership potential.

But this was on an _entirely_ different level and Hermione was unprepared for the way that the press of Pansy's soft lips against hers broke down her defenses. She whimpered softly as Pansy slipped her robe off her shoulders, as she tangled her hands in Hermione's hair, as she slid her hands around her waist, as she pressed delicate kisses across the freckles on Hermione’s collarbone. "Granger, I'm going to charm this back, is that alright?"

Hermione nodded her assent, still a little dazed. The dark-haired witch grabbed her wand from a side table and muttered a few charms. Hermione's hair folded and interwove nicely into a loose French braid that she could tuck over her shoulder – but she hardly had a moment to appreciate the spell-work before Pansy had pulled her back into a tender kiss, turning them slowly so that Pansy was leaning against the wall, Hermione straddling her knee and arching into her skilled hands. It was really a shame she had no interest in dating the dark-haired witch, her kisses were disarmingly lovely.

"Damn, Granger," Theo wolf-whistled from across the room, and the witches pulled apart to find that quite a few of their friends were admiring the view Hermione's chosen underthings. She blushed and squirmed under their attention but couldn't quite bring herself to regret the maroon lace teddy, not the way it dipped low in-between her breasts, or the high-waisted thong cut on the bottom half. She had never felt so sexy as when she tried that particular set on a few months prior, but her boyfriend at the time (ugh, McLaggen, she honestly couldn’t remember why she’d dated him that long) never got to appreciate it. 

"Thanks, Theo," Hermione said shakily as she stepped away, trying to keep her arms loose and relaxed at her side instead of crossing over her pert nipples, trying not to let her eyes linger on Harry’s face, wide-eyed and mouth slightly agape, as if he’d never thought his female best friend would have a body like that.

(She tried to ignore the hurt; this was fourth-year all over again, Harry discovering she was a girl with some amount of shock and trepidation. It was exhausting. Couldn’t she just be noticed and appreciated for who she was in her entirety, just once?)

“What do you say, Granger? Do you want to stay a bit?” Pansy murmured from her stance against the wall, arms crossed and the sly smirk across her face that always meant she knew the answer already, that she was waiting for someone else to catch up. It was infuriating at work – Pansy had an innate knack for the mysterious magics in their department – and of course, it was just as frustrating, if not more so, in this context. She wanted to throw up her hands and roll her eyes but did neither, offering a half-shrug instead.

Pansy smiled triumphantly as her eyes flickered between the Golden Girl and the newest arrival, lounging on the bed with Daphne but having completely forgotten, by the looks of it, that anyone else existed except Hermione. “Excellent,” she purred, before calling out. “Harry!”

Hermione looked at her former friend in shock, hissing her protests. “I – I don’t even like him like – Pansy, _don’t_ –“

It was only then that Pansy noticed the desperation in her voice, the pleading, but it was too late. Harry was already making his way across the room, boxers slung low on his hips and – oh, _Harry_. He’d left his socks on – black with little Snitches darting across the toes, ones she’d given him for Christmas the year before.

Pansy raised a querying eyebrow at her petite friend. "You're telling me that all of that-" Pansy gestured vaguely to Harry's everything - his broad shoulders, narrow waist, the musculature that Hermione had deemed sculpted in other contexts and now seemed positively unfair - "does nothing for you?"

"I - I didn't say _that_ ," Hermione muttered mulishly.

"Well, then. Enjoy!" Hermione shot a vicious glare at her supposed friend, who sauntered over to the couch, settling in next to Theo and pressing delicate kisses along the arch of his neck as she trailed manicured nails across his nipples.

Harry raked his fingers through his already mussed hair as he stepped up to her, a hesitant smile on his face, eyes firmly fixed on her face. A flush was rapidly spreading up the column of his neck and across his broad chest and a small voice in her mind wondered if it was from her, if he noticed she was a girl and liked what he saw.

“Didn't know you were, uh, going to be here," he said, stumbling over his words as his eyes darted down to her attire and snapped back up to her amber eyes.

"I didn't know _you_ were going to be here." She crossed her arms and looked at him accusingly, partially as an experiment. His eyes darted down once more to the cleavage in-between the scraps of lace and she resisted the urge to smirk at the flush spreading across his cheeks.

“Pansy invited me.”

Hermione peered around his narrow waist to glare at the dark-haired witch once more, but unfortunately – or fortunately for Pansy, she supposed – Pansy was a little preoccupied with a cock in her cunt and another in her mouth.

“Is that – is that a problem?” he asked, sounding hesitant in a way that he hardly did, not with the confidence he’d gained from training, from being able to eat a solid three meals a day, from growing and becoming a leader in the DMLE.

Hermione turned her focus back to him, reaching out a hand to intertwine her fingers with his, stroking his hand absently. “Oh, no, of course not, it’s just that –“

She froze, her spectacular brain at once unable to come up with a single reason why she was acting so strangely.

“You’ve never been a particularly good liar, Hermione, you know?” Harry smirked, but she could see the hurt in his eyes. “Do you want me to leave? So you can, you know?” He gestured vaguely to the room around them, candlelight and sultry music and a soundtrack of sighs surrounding them.

“No, _no_ , Harry, that’s not it.” Hermione sighed and stepped closer to him, gathering up her courage. “She’s just trying to be a good friend, help me explore things.”

“Things?” Harry raised an eyebrow as he raised his other hand to stroke a loose curl back from her face. “Sexualities? I saw that kiss with Pansy.”

Hermione blushed at the memory but shook her head. “Things like… a possible attraction to a good friend.”

Harry peered over his shoulder to glance at the tableau behind them before turning back. “Theo?”

“Harry,” she giggled, grateful for once for his obliviousness, for the way he was searching for any answer but the obvious. It gave her time to gather her courage.

“Draco?”

Hermione laughed outright – hoping that the blond man couldn’t hear them from here. It wasn’t that he wasn’t attractive – his arse in particular had driven her to more than one workplace fantasy – but he wasn’t responsible for near-nightly explicit dreams over the last few months.

“Neville?” Harry turned to her seriously, fingers absently tracing the velvet ribbon at her waist, causing her to shiver and wonder if it was all her – but no, his eyes darkened as he continued to list off possibilities. “I can’t imagine it’s Blaise, you hardly know him.”

Hermione inhaled shakily and stepped closer to him, taking his face in her hands and brushing her thumbs across his cheekbones as she gazed into his eyes, searching them for some return of her feelings, some acknowledgment of this desire that had been building for her for months. Years, maybe.

“Harry, it’s you.”

She would have laughed at the gob-smacked look on his face if she wasn’t already rocking back on her heels, trying to retreat back from her bravery, back to the safety of what their friendship could be already, if she could only stop this incessant dreaming, fantasizing.

“You – you know what,” she stuttered, “don’t worry about it. I was just wondering what it would be like, but you don’t want that and it’s fine and I’ll just go see if Neville or – or Blaise wants to – “ She was rambling, she always rambled when she was nervous, and the fact that Harry knew this about her and would recognize what the rambling meant only made her _more_ nervous.

"You're attracted to me?" Harry asked, lowly, catching her around the waist and holding her firmly in place, eyes fixed on her with an intent she did not recognize in this context, but knew all too well. It spoke of stubbornness, of determination.

Hermione swallowed a whimper as she nodded, helplessly, her hands still hovering at his cheeks.

It was less than a heartbeat later that Harry captured her lips with his own, in a way that felt flying. It was both exhilarating and terrifying and breath-taking and her heart was careening against her chest and as overwhelming as it was, she never wanted it to stop. She whimpered when he wrenched his lips away, dragging them down the line of her jaw.

Harry leaned down to press a series of disarming kisses to the tender spot beneath her earlobe, the curve of her neck, the slope of her shoulder, and she could be forgiven for not realizing that he was asking her a question until he repeated it, twice. "Hermione, do you want more?"

"Please," she asked, shakily, giving permission and begging in one shaky breath. She had been fantasizing about him, about this, for so long that she thought, surely, it would fail to live up to expectations and she could return to being attracted to other people, with whom she wouldn't fear losing a decade-long friendship, and oh my _god_ , she had been deliciously, delightfully, wrong.

"What do you want?" His voice was sinfully low, and the vibrations traveled from her neck to her wrists and back to the intersection of her thighs, where the fabric of her pretty lingerie was already soaked through.

"Anything," she sighed, almost without thinking, but couldn't consider the notion of taking the words back. Now that she was here, in this room, surrounded by a chorus of sighs and thrusts and now that Harry was here, in front of her, kissing across her collarbone with a dedication she'd never anticipated, she wanted it. She wanted whatever he wanted to give her.

(She wanted _everything_ ).

Harry chuckled lowly and licked up the curve of her jaw until her knees nearly gave out beneath her. "Gladly," he murmured, before catching her lips with his own, kissing her aggressively and powerfully, as if he had every intent to consume her and knew that she would happily volunteer without a second thought.

One hand came up to grip the base of her neck, the other wrapping around her waist and pulling her flush against him, leaving no doubt as to his desire, and she was suddenly glad that he'd already stripped, that there were so few barriers between her hands and his skin.

Their kisses turned feverish as she was backed up against the wall for the second time in less than fifteen minutes - a new record, for her, she was sure - and as she allowed her hands to wander, to explore, to trace the contours of his muscles, to dip into the waistband of his boxers and explore his cock.

Harry gasped and pulled his hips from her grasp, pressing his forehead against hers and cursing under his breath. "I - I can't - " The way his hands tightened around her waist begged for leniency.

A devilish smirk crossed her face as she slowly dragged her grip up, fondling the head with explicit intent and thoroughly enjoying the flutter of his eyelids and the involuntary jerk of his hips.

"Do you want me?" she asked, sliding her grasp back down the shaft at a torturous pace, asking the question she needed to ask, the one she needed him to answer.

(Too many years of boys glances sliding over her, her bushy-hair, her comfortable clothes, her front teeth, in favor of anyone else - not from Harry, of course, but he'd always looked at her like a friend, a good friend, and she needed to know if it was possible - if he could - )

"So much," he groaned, lifting his eyes to hers with a searing look as he continued in a soft voice that would have been out of place, had it not been pitched so low and spoken between their half-naked bodies, "and for so long."

There was no time to process his words, only his confirmation, as he surged forward, lifting her up against the wall with one arm, at perfect angle with his own hips, and yanking down the flimsy covering over her breast, sucking on her nipple until she was gasping and yanking at his hair, pulling him to the other side. Her hips undulated against his in a rhythm she hadn't thought she knew - but it was so easy, so unbearably lovely, and she felt as though she was on fire. 

"Please, please, please..." the litany of begging fell from her lips as her head fell back and hit the wall, as she wrapped her legs around his waist and hooked her ankles into his lower back to give her more leverage.

"What do you want, witch?" Harry released her nipple with a pop and licked up the side of her neck, pushing his hips into hers.

"Oh - _oh -_ fuck me, Harry, _please_."

"Not yet," he replied, with a devilish grin and his pupils blown wide. He cast a wandless spell, anchoring her against the wall weightlessly. She suspected it was some combination of a levitation spell and a - Hermione stopped thinking about spell work as he slid his palm from the arch of her neck down in-between her breasts, over her belly and down to her cunt, stroking his fingers over the lingerie barely covering her heat so gently she felt like she might scream.

Hermione twisted and writhed in his grasp, but he didn't increase the pressure until he heard her start to beg once more. She'd never felt so turned on in her entire _life_ \- and somehow, she hadn't entirely forgotten about the other people in the room, hadn't once felt uncomfortable or strange. The soundtrack of their moaning only added to the symphony of pleasure racing through her bloodstream.

Harry murmured a quick thanks to whatever deities were listening for cleverly designed lingerie with no barriers and plunged two fingers inside of her cunt in one deft movement that left her legs shaking, her mouth wide open in an endless gasp as she tightened around him, endlessly, in waves of pleasure as the pressure built and built - and he wasn't even moving yet. Just standing there with her in his arms, his fingers deep inside, and a shit-eating grin on his stupidly handsome face.

Hermione dragged her fingernails down his broad shoulders in a bid for him to move, please, god, just _move already, dammit_ -

"Do you want something, pet?"

"You - " Hermione was panting with the effort that it took to form words, to keep her wits about her enough to have a conversation. No matter how hard Cormac had fucked her, no matter whether he tied her up or teased her with her vibrator, she'd always been able to have a conversation, to have a running tally of her to-do list in the background of her mine - but this? She felt mindless with desire. "You know I do, you incorrigible prat."

Harry shook his head and began to pull back from her, laughing lowly when she protested. He was flushed from the tips of his ears down to the bottom of his ribs, a delicious flush that she wanted to trace with her tongue another time, another moment when she wasn't so on edge from his lack of ministrations and -

"Oh, _fuuuuck_ ," she moaned, low and hedonistic, as she felt him twist his wrist and plunge deeper into her, starting a leisurely pace that he maintained as he trailed kisses up the side of her jaw. She was grateful for the charm, certain that without it she'd be a mere puddle on the floor and not posted up on the wall as if just a trophy for him to plunder and take and _use_.

"You're not in charge here, Hermione." Harry's voice was commanding, a departure from the voice he used to ask if she wanted coffee in the mornings, different from the one offering his arm at a Ministry event. It was closest to what she called his Auror Voice - but sounded like sin itself and she was fairly certain she'd never be able to hear him speak in public without wanting to pounce on him after this, and she couldn't convince herself that was a bad thing.

Letting go of control, giving her body to someone she trusted explicitly - it was heady and exactly what she'd been craving for years. She tightened her fingertips in his hair as the steady pace of his fingers was beginning to drive her mad. 

"Can you hear that?" he murmured in her ear as he casually added another finger into her cunt, stretching her deliciously wide as she writhed against him. "Can you hear how _drenched_ you are?"

A voice she recognized, even in her lust-filled haze, piped up from over Harry's shoulder. "Mind if I have a taste?"

Hermione whimpered as he slowly pulled his fingers from her tight cunt, offering them to Luna without batting an eye. The blonde girl sucked all three of his fingers into her mouth lasciviously, carefully licking and taking every drop of Hermione's juices that was offered to her, before winking at her.

"Delicious," she murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to the base of Hermione's throat before sauntering back to join Ginny and Daphne on the bed.

"I - "

Hermione and Harry looked at one another with smiles that were almost shy, if they could forget that they were half-naked and in the midst of debauchery. She hadn't forgotten about the others, but she'd forgotten about the possibility that they might want to be involved, somehow, and she suddenly felt rather possessive of the man in front of her.

Twining her fingers in his hair, she pulled him close for a bruising kiss as he used his fingers to trace her hardened nipples, to pinch and pull and stroke until she was panting and lost in him once more.

"Fuck me, Harry, please, I've been so patient, _please_ ," she murmured against his lips, moaning at the feel of his cock pressed up against her heat with only a thin layer of fabric between them.

"Have - " he pressed his forehead against hers, tucking a stray curl behind her ear as he asked, "Have you done the charm?"

Hermione nodded, feverishly pulling him closer for a bruising kiss and grinding her hips up against his once more.

It took only a moment for Harry to yank down his boxers and line himself up with her entrance, kissing her sloppily as he pushed inside her tight cunt just enough for the head to slip inside. Hermione tore her lips from his with a gasp, aching to rock him in even deeper but her movements were halted by his hand firmly on her hip.

"Ah, ah, Hermione," he tutted at her, "I'm in charge." Harry yanked her arms above her head and stuck them there with yet another charm, leaving her suspended against the wall, helpless, with her legs spread around his hips. Impressive spellwork aside, this was truly the first time she'd felt like she really wasn't in charge, at all, like she wasn't secretly directing the scene beforehand, or giving such explicit and direct instructions he'd follow along happily. The gleam in Harry's eyes told her she wasn't alone in her enjoyment of the scene he'd created.

"What do you think, should I hold your legs open and let everyone in here get a taste of you?" he whispered in her ear. She slammed her head back and shuddered at the mere idea. "Let Malfoy and Nott fall to their knees and fight over the taste of your pretty little cunt?"

Harry drew his hips back and forth, easing himself into her incrementally, using his hands to weigh her breasts and his thumbs to trace the hard peaks of her nipples. "Should I call Pansy over, to suck on these gorgeous tits? Watching the two of you earlier, fuck, it was so hot, Hermione."

A glimmer of sweat dotted her brow as she tried so, _so_ very hard not to move her hips - but she couldn't help herself, and the involuntary motion betrayed her fraying self-control.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?"

She whimpered, biting her lip as she fought to stay still.

"What do you think, should I fuck you now?"

" _Please_ , Harry -" A loud moan escaped her throat as he thrust completely into her, deeper than she even knew was possible. She could feel the others' gaze flicker to her, and she couldn't help but imagine the debauched picture they would see: her body opened wide on Harry's cock, suspended and powerless and panting and flushed and being absolutely fucked by her platonic best friend. 

She would snort if she had the spare breath to do so. As it was, the tension in her body was building to a near unbearable level, riding the line of pleasure and pain as her vision started to crackle and split at the edges, as her pussy gripped his cock tighter and tighter, drawing him as deep as she could for as long as she could, something primal in her taking over as he fucked into her.

Harry began to snap his hips into hers at a bruising pace, green eyes fixed on hers as he watched her start to fall apart, to fracture into a million little pieces that, she was sure, would never reassemble back the way she was before. It wasn't like her to be melodramatic, or to say that sex was life-changing, but this orgasm, this little death, felt like it was making a part of her anew.

Being fucked, before, was pleasant. Nice, even, sometimes.

Being fucked by Harry was... world-shaking, life-shattering, unimaginably _good_ \- and even that was an understatement.

It took a moment for the stars to clear from her vision, for her muscles to relax. Hermione felt like a boneless, mindless puddle of pleasure and she leaned her head back against the wall, content to be exist in this hazy, twilight state where desire ruled her, where desire ruled everyone.

"You with me, pet?" Harry had slowed his pace to indolence, indulgence, with his eyes fixed on her in a mixture of concern and longing.

Hermione smiled lazily as she lifted her hips into him encouragingly. "Yes, you prat. Now, keep going."

Harry grinned back, hair falling into his eyes and a flush across his cheeks, rolling his hips and hitting a new angle that had her inner walls fluttering once more, her eyelashes fluttering and mouth falling open. He brought a hand up to trace her lips, to kiss her once more, open-mouthed and wanting and with more heat than she felt like she could withstand, but she'd burn up with him happily.

(It's a truth that had carried through the last decade of friendship, and it didn't change in this context. She'd still follow him anywhere).

"Do you want me to keep going? Or do you need a break?"

"Keep - going - " she moaned, breathlessly, wriggling her elbows in a silent bid to have them freed, which he granted with a smirk. 

Her body suddenly had weight to it, again, and she would have slid down the wall if it weren't for Harry's grip on her legs, holding her up steadily. Instead, Harry turned them around so his back was against the wall, carefully maneuvering them down until he was sitting, leaning against the wall and she was straddling him - his cock having remained fully nestled inside of her during the entire process, making her gasp and moan and ache for _more_.

Hermione rocked back and hissed at the sensation, settling her knees on either side of his hips and her hands placed on his shoulders. His bright eyes looked up at her in a mixture of adoration and disbelief.

"I've had dreams just like this for years," he murmured, stroking his hands up and down her thighs as she started to move, started to lift herself off of him, "but this is just - wow."

"So - articulate - " she panted, teasing him with a gentle smile and kiss on the forehead.

"Don't be rude," Harry scowled, settling his hands more firmly on the curves of her hips to take over control, to lift her lithe body up and slam her back down, eyes flickering between where they were joined to her bouncing tits to the slope of her neck to the fluttering of her eyes, and back again, over and over.

It only took five, maybe six rolls of her hips before she shattered once more.

Her hands gripped tightly to Harry's shoulders as her entire body tensed and he fucked her through it, through the gripping of her inner walls on his cock, through her nails digging indents into his muscles. His jaw was tight as he fought against his own impending climax.

Hermione slumped against him, resting her head on his shoulder. An amused smile crossed her lips at his hard-fought restraint, and she murmured in his ear, "we can do this again, you know."

Harry turned his head to look at her, still moving her hips with his hands as if she weighed nothing, as if she was merely a tool to be used for his pleasure, and she loved every moment of it. "Again?" His eyes were mischievous.

"Whenever you want," she whispered, pressing a fond kiss to the spot beneath his ear. She felt boneless, mindless, lost to pleasure, lost to the sensations that far outweighed her expectations and every fantasy she'd ever had about what it would be like to be fucked by Harry.

And now that she knew what it was like - what sex could be like - she didn't want to give it up. Flashes of being fucked on the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place, or laid out on the rug in front of the fireplace in the library, or bent over the stairs, steps before their rooms, filled her head and she groaned into his ear.

Hermione didn't think Harry was skilled at Legilimency, and certainly not wandless, nonverbal Legilimency - but he must have been thinking something similar, as his hands began to bounce her on his cock at an almost punishing pace. She whimpered as he leaned forward to suckle her nipples, alternating between her breasts until she was panting and desperate once more, bringing one hand to pull his hair and the other hand to her clit, rubbing furious circles as she came close to yet another orgasm.

"God, I love you -" he murmured as he licked between her breasts and that was enough to let her topple into bliss, and she lost all semblance of rational thought as the moments passed. Hermione was certain that, if asked, if it was truly pressing and a life or death situation, she'd wouldn't be able to recite any first year spells, or the year she was born, or even the color of her eyes.

Harry followed shortly after, his hips stuttering as he wrapped his arms firmly around her shoulders, keeping her still as he came inside of her, moaning her name as he let his head drop onto her chest. 

In the moments afterwards, Hermione felt as if she was resurfacing from a deep sea dive, breaking through the pressure of the surface and returning to the world of the living from the world of murky desires and hazy truths half-hidden behind the shadows. She could hear - suddenly, though she was quite certain it had never stopped - the murmurings of Draco and Theo from where they were entangled on the couch, and the sharp wailing cry of Pansy as she came, and the guttural grunts of Neville and Blaise as they shared Luna between them.

"You know," Harry mused ruefully, after he'd somewhat caught his breath and she had felt his heart rate return to roughly normal, "I never imagined our first time would be like this."

"Like what?" Hermione pulled back to look at him, conscious that her hair was halfway out of its magical braid and her lips were swollen and her lingerie a different shade from all the sweat.

"Up against the wall, for one," he chuckled, "or during a sex party with your Slytherin friends."

"They're _your_ friends, too, Harry," she protested, pushing at his shoulder affectionately. She was becoming all too aware that she was still straddling him, that he was still inside her, and was reluctant to invite any space between them. "You took Daphne to last month's Ministry fundraiser, and Draco has been your partner at the DMLE for years now."

"Details, details." He waved off her reasoning with an easy smile.

Hermione felt her lagging brain begin to catch up with the conversation, the fog of lust clearing. "You - you said, you imagined our first time?" she queried, curious as she lifted herself slowly from his hips and settled next to him against the wall.

"Yeah." A chagrined smile spread across his face as he looked at her sideways, draping an arm over her shoulders in the same way he had a thousand times before. 

"Did it - was this -"

"Oh, this was better than anything I could have imagined," he said, eyes dancing and a half-smile playing on his lips as he looked at her. "Just a little less romantic than I planned."

Hermione let herself lean into him, let the words sink into her, before she jolted up and turned to him, indignant. "Planned?"

Harry winced. "Can we pretend I didn't say that out loud?"

Hermione felt her arms cross as if of their own volition, glaring at him as if she wasn't half-naked, as if he hadn't just fucked her against the wall.

Harry ran his hand through his hair and slumped his shoulders. "Merlin, you're a terrifying witch, did you know? Terrifying, ridiculously sexy, and my supposedly platonic best friend who I've been thinking about bending over any available surface for the last year."

"You - but I thought -" The look on his face when he'd first seen her in lingerie flashed in her head. "I didn't think you saw me that way."

His eyes glinted with pride, even as his rueful smile faded a bit. "Did you know Draco's been teaching me Occlumency?" He laughed. "It was the only way I could get any work done, I was so distracted by you running around in those damnably short skirts under your Unspeakable robes."

Hermione smirked before she could remember her insecurities, her fear that he'd always looked at her as a friend and only that, that no one would ever see her properly as a woman and - they were old fears, old insecurities. Baseless, at this point, apparently. "You'll have to thank Pansy for those."

They both glanced over to where Pansy was otherwise occupied, entangled as she was with Daphne on the bed. "I'll send her a fruit basket next week."

"So... planned?" Hermione asked, not quite willing to let this one go.

Harry nodded, as if he knew she wouldn't, as if he knew her very well and appreciated almost everything about her. "It's like you said before, I wanted to explore an attraction to a good friend."

"And?"

His smile turned roguish. "I'd very much be open to exploring it again and again."

A shiver ran down her spine as her gaze darted to his lips once more. "Oh?"

"You told me we could," he murmured, green eyes glinting in the candlelight. "Did you mean it?"

Hermione nodded, her hand traversing the short distance between them to cup his face.

"You promised me anything," he continued. "Did you mean it?"

"Yes," she breathed out, as she leaned closer, feeling their noses brush and the air between the thrum with the current of their desire.

Harry leaned in to capture her lips, but she had one more question.

"You said you loved me," she whispered, glancing between his eyes searching for meaning, searching for the truest truth. "Did you mean it?"

But Harry froze, and tilted his head, confused. "Of course I did."

Hermione's brow furrowed as she considered him. "But, do you love me like _that_?"

He took a deep breath. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"I - " Harry inhaled, looking up at the ceiling as he carefully turned over his thoughts, turned over his words. "I'm not in love with you," he said, quietly, seriously. "Not yet, at least. But I think it could happen."

Hermione swallowed and nodded, rubbing her thumb tenderly across his jaw. "I know what you mean. I - I think I'm there, too."

"Okay," he sighed. "Good."

They smiled at each other as they stood up on shaky legs. Harry pulled up his socks, Hermione re-situated her lingerie so it was up her ass in a way that was intentional and not slightly uncomfortable, and they quickly located their clothes amongst the piles by the door, Hermione resisting the urge to yawn.

"Anything else you want to explore today?"

Hermione gazed around the candlelit room, noting the naked bodies intertwined, the moaning, the gasping, the bliss and also those that were taking a brief respite for aperitifs. "No," she smiled, weaving her fingers through Harry's, "I'm good." 

"Me too." Harry kissed her temple, draped her robe over her shoulders, and escorted her back to the Floo, back to the home that they shared.

-

"And then what?" Pansy asked as she dug around, elbow-deep in the brain tank, balancing on the ladder on too-tall shoes.

"What do you mean?"

"Did you bang again, did you fall asleep in each other's arms, did he go fetch his grandmother's ring - gods, woman, tell me the details."

Hermione snorted at her work wife's dramatics. One would think she'd be used to it by now, but she'd never really had female friends before, especially not female friends who wanted to hear about her love life (Ginny would have rather done literally anything in the world than hear about her and Ron, and after that, it was hard to tell her about anything in her romantic life).

"We're taking it slow."

(They had, in fact, not made it up the stairs before the Pepper-Up Potion that they'd all drank that evening took effect and she'd decided she couldn't go another moment without fulfilling at least one more fantasy).

Pansy harrumphed grumpily as she extracted another brain for the jar, narrowly avoiding the tentacles swiping at her sweater. "What is even the point of my machinations when I don't even get to enjoy the fruits of my labor?"

"You were _in the room_ when we had sex for the first time," Hermione protested, before pointing over to the rather magnificent basket perched on Pansy's desk, "and he sent you a _literal_ fruit basket!" 

"It did have a very nice card attached but no elf-wine." Pansy sniffed, carefully placing the top back on the tank.

Hermione collected the jars and sealed them with a deft wave of her wand. "Honestly, Pansy, I'm not sure what more you were hoping to get out of this weekend," she teased with a smile.

Pansy muttered darkly under her breath about true love and marriage proposals and how could the _smartest_ person she knew still be so dumb, but Hermione, used to her muttering, ignored her completely as they stepped out of the dark and drafty research hall. 

"I'm going to go get lunch with Harry, I'll see you after?"

Pansy nodded and waved her friend off, noting the pep in her step and managing to cast a charm to shorten her skirt another inch. Perhaps Potter would finally get the hint and send the bottle of 1587 elf-wine she _knew_ Draco had given him for Christmas the year before.

She sighed and slumped on her desk, reaching for a rather dodgy vegetable wrap she'd grabbed from the cafe this morning and eying it with distaste, perking up as a knock sounded on her door.

"Miss Parkinson?" A broad-shouldered man with shockingly bright hair stepped around the corner, dressed in dark clothes from his boots to his leather jacket.

"Yes, Mister - Weasley, is it?" she asked, as if she didn't know every one of Ginny's brothers' names. She could just see the hint of a magical tattoo in the large tail curling around his neck. But even without the tattoo or the earring, she would have known this man immediately. 

"You can call me Charlie," he said, with a disarmingly bright smile.

"Then you may call me Pansy," she replied, smirking in return. 

"Alright." He collapsed easily into the chair in front of her desk, the one usually reserved for Hermione to discuss her romantic woes, jumping into an explanation about the dragons and the elves and the ley lines that were wreaking havoc in Romania and could she come to help? Pansy listened carefully, took notes when appropriate, and sent an owl to the Office of Magical Transportation to arrange for an International Portkey.

Once their business was concluded, and they were set to leave for Romania the following Monday, he stood up to leave, and well, she just couldn't let that happen without asking: 

"Say, Charlie, do you have any plans this weekend? I'm having a little get-together..."


End file.
